Ambition On Its Own
by loyalkeeper
Summary: Adela Worbu is caught between duty to her family and following her own dreams as she makes her way through Hogwarts, managing to find a few friends and even the occasional enemy along the way. Can this Slytherin put up with the immature behavior of her fellow students, and does she have the patience to handle it all? And no, she doesn't care about the 3-headed dog on the 3rd floor.


**Disclaimer: HPotter/Universe doesn't belong to me-kudos to JKR-and I won't repeat this again because there's no need to rub salt into an open wound, thanks. Enjoy my first story everrrr. **

Adela stared passively at the clamoring in front of her, face devoid of the excitement and apprehension her fellow First Years projected. Inwardly, however, she could not stifle the thoughts that had been plaguing her since the arrival of her Hogwarts letter.

Despite how strong and mature she strived to appear, Adela could not deny that standing inside this ancient castle, feeling the magic pumping around her, she was humbled. Humbled, and yet nervous. Scared at the idea of being away from home, and anxious at what would await her on the other side of these massive doors, Adela could not stop the apprehension from flowing though her, a sign of how young she really was. Thankfully, the only indication of her anxiety was the shaking of her hands, which were smartly hidden deep in the pockets of her new, black robe.

Suddenly, a body jarred her roughly, breaking her out of her musings. Strengthening her mask of disinterest, she took a dainty step away from the offending person, a nervous, pudgy boy holding a toad, and refrained from rolling her eyes when she saw the reason for his bumbling.

A platinum haired blonde stood at the front of the group, a haughty sneer marring his young yet aristocratic features. He was facing a small boy with ink black hair that obviously never had an appointment with a good brush before, and as his back was to her she could not make out his expression. The two had gathered somewhat of a circle of curious onlookers, the audience distracted at the sight of such a tense standoff.

Draco Malfoy, she knew of course, and was thus not surprised to see that he was calling attention to himself already. She could only imagine what his mother would say, seeing him acting so _uncouth_. And as for the small boy who Draco was preoccupied with, Adela could not help but share some sense of pity for anyone who Draco had his eyes on. Then again, the child was only adding to the situation by entertaining Malfoy, as opposed to ignoring him; she had long learned to resist acknowledging the blonde, as well as anything he was prone to saying, for both his health and her mentality. The whole situation seemed so infantile.

Apparently, Adela wasn't the only one to share such a sentiment. Her eyes were drawn to a tall and composed figure on the opposite side of the crowd, about parallel to her. His skin was almost as dark as her own, and the cool and collected expression on his face a contrast to the warm tones of his brown skin and green eyes. The same green eyes that he was rolling, looking up at the heavens as if awaiting some sort of sign to relieve him of the ridiculousness he was witnessing. Adela had the overwhelming urge to smirk in agreement, and giggle.

As if he felt her gaze, the tall boy's eyes drew to hers, sharp and calculating, conveying both annoyance and reluctant humor. He stared at her, and she refused to break eye contact, face still aloof and yet recognizing a challenge when she saw one. Eventually, a small smirk grew on his face, and raising one eyebrow, he blinked, slowly, mockingly, admitting defeat. Both embarrassed at the childishness of the exchange, and pleased with her victory, she nodded at him in acknowledgment, and he inclined his head at her in turn. Somehow, Adela knew, she had gained a friend.

"First Years!" a sharp voice barked, surprising not only Adela, but the majority of the crowd, the blond and his victim included. A no-nonsense woman appeared in front of them, standing uncompromisingly, lips pursed and eyes intense.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began. "I am Professor McGonagall. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but you will be sorted into your houses first before taking your seats in the Great Hall."

Professor McGonagall paused for a moment, and as she looked at the assembled children, excited and anxious, her face somewhat softened. "Your houses will be something like your family within Hogwarts. And so, the Sorting is a very important and honored tradition, and it would do you well to respect this ceremony. I expect the best behavior from Hogwart's newest class, is that clear?" she demanded. She received frightened nods and murmurs of agreement in response.

"Now then, form a line," McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Hastening to comply, the students mechanically joined together and followed. Satisfied, McGonagall turned sharply, and with a tap of her wand, she pulled the grand doors open wide, entering the Great Hall.

Despite growing up surrounded by magic, Adela could not help but be impressed by the magic within the Hall. Austere walls and carvings, lit by thousands of floating candles, reflecting brightly off the golden goblets and plates that covered four long tables in the center of the hall, perpendicular to a horizontally running master table at the front. However, what most impressed Adela was the enchanted ceiling, a velvety black canopy dotted with stars blanketing them from above.

Adela overheard a girl with wild hair and overwhelming front teeth whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History." _

Somewhat distracted, the students blindly marched behind the Professor, finally registering the gazes of hundreds of students. In front of the grand table, where the professors sat, was a withered old hat perched upon a four-legged stool. McGonagall came to a halt in front of the professors and the hat, turning to the students and pulling out a worn scroll. Instead of reading from it, however, she stood silently and patiently, the rest of the Hall following suit. The first years, however, gazed at each other confusedly, wondering what they were all waiting for, and what the hat had to do with the sorting. After a few seconds, surprisingly, the hat twitched and ripped near the brim, opening wide like a mouth, and began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Adela resisted the urge to laugh. _That was it? _she thought. _That's all we have to do? Put on a hat?_ It was a reasonable course of action, considering that none of the first years knew magic yet, but Adela could not help but feel a sliver of disappointment that such a ritual was how she was going to be sorted. _How simplistic_. The idea of a talking hat determining where she would live for the next seven years did not sit well with her, and she would have preferred to undergo a more dignified process, one that would properly evaluate her character.

As McGonagall began to call students to come forward and be sorted by alphabetical order, Adela considered her options. Adela knew about the House system, of course, the same way that she knew about the enchanted ceiling—_Hogwarts, A History_. The girl with the uncontrollable mane of hair had been right, but that wasn't much of an accomplishment. Any reasonable student with a respectable amount of childish curiosity should have read the book already, in order to properly research the very place that would mold their futures. And so Adela had, twice, in fact, read the lengthy book, in preparation to exceed, as well as avoid any unnecessary embarrassments.

From what she had learned, it seemed that Gryffindor was the house of the brave and foolish, Hufflepuff the house of the loyal yet dependent, Ravenclaw the house of the intelligent and exclusive, and Slytherin, the house of the ambitious yet callous.

Although _Hogwarts, A History_ only sang high praises for each house, Adela had heard enough to know that for each superior quality there was a negative attribute to counterbalance and drag the house down. Adela respected all the qualities that were embodied in each house, and although she could realistically relate to any of them, she was aware that it was more reasonable to desire a house that had negative traits that she could put up with.

Recklessness was not a quality she could admire or relate to, and Adela prized herself on remaining cool and collected rather than hot-blooded and impassioned; thus Adela could not see herself at Gryffindor. Dependent and unquestioning were not philosophies Adela respected, and although loyalty was an attribute Adela held highly, she would barely be better of in Huffelpuff than Gryffindor. Ravenclaw was probably the most relatable and yet disappointing house of them all. Intelligence and levelheadedness were esteemed characteristics in Adela's eyes, and although she could relate to the sense of superiority natural to the house, the exclusivity of its inhabitants was not a quality to embrace when searching for success. Slytherin's appreciation for ambition and respect for cunning as well as knowledge were right up Adela's ally, but the selfishness of the house and its inclination to produce Dark figures in the last century were quite unsettling. Not completely decided but sure of either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, Adela was timely broken out of her musings by a collective gasp and subsequent whisperings that broke out among the Hall.

Tuning back to the Sorting, Adela noticed that the same small boy with unruly black hair who Draco had been terrorizing was now being Sorted. Angered at herself for missing whatever must have occurred to set the Hall in a frenzy, she waited for the Hat to call out his house. Deciding to pay attention now, she was surprised that it was taking so long for the hat to make its decision. None of the other students had faced such an issue. What was this boy's name, anyways?

Just as she was about to ask, the hat cried: "GRYFFINDOR!" The respective table burst into raucous applause and cheering, a pair of red heads spinning around arm in arm and conjuring confetti in air especially amusing. The other houses politely clapped, though their faces held twinges of jealousy; the majority of Slytherin, she noticed, refrained from clapping at all.

The boy stumbled off the stool, carefully set down the hat with a thoughtful look on his face, and carefully made his way to the table, a small grin breaking out at the surprising sight that awaited him. _He must be a celebrity or something_, Adela decided,_ to have such an enthusiastic welcome_. Again, Adela wished she had been paying more attention rather than accommodating her musings. She didn't even know his name! She couldn't let herself get so easily distracted. Aloof she may be, but clueless she was not.

The boy sat down next to the bumbling boy from earlier, and the hat continued on with its duty, McGonagall calling out the next name: "SMITH, Zacharias!"

_They were on "S's" already?! _Adela thought, surprised. She looked around as the blonde-haired boy was sorted, and noticed where her fellow first years had gone. At the Gryffindor table, along with the small black-haired boy sat the girl with the untamed hair, along with a boy who had hair equally red as the pair she saw frolicking further down the same table. Ravenclaw held an Indian girl that she remembered seeing previously in passing, and it seemed she was separated from her twin, who sat at Gryffindor. Hufflepuff unsurprisingly held nobody recognizable, and before she could cast her eyes upon the Slytherin table, her name was called.

"WORBU, Adela!" McGonagall ushered her forward, and Adela stoically climbed the short steps onto the dais. Surreptitiously wiping her sweaty hands on her robes, Adela picked up the hat and sat on the stool. Before setting the magical item on her head, she took a deep breath and glimpsed at the hundreds of eyes that were watching her sorting, only heightening her inner anxiety.

_Hmmm,_ a deep voice rumbled in Adela's head. _Quite interesting, my dear. So compartmentalized, and yet so driven, so passionate. You shall do great things, I see, now the only question is which house is best suited for you?_

Adela was surprised that the Hat even bothered asking the question, rather than outright telling her. Reading her thoughts, the hat chuckled, a breathy feeling that tickled her conscience. _Ah,_ it sighed, _you seem more self-aware than the average eleven year old. You think much too highly of yourself, of course, a mark of youthful folly, but you do recognize the cons as well as the pros for each house, and do not seem to have any particular inclinations towards one over another, merely a few disinclinations._

Both angered at the hat's remark and smug about its acknowledgement, Adela paused. _Well, if it doesn't make any difference to you,_ she thought to the hat,_ I think Ravenclaw or Slytherin would do right for me, personally._

Once again, the hat laughed softly, conveying its agreement. _Ah, I see now_, it said. _Better be…_"SLYTHERIN!"

Feeling slightly relieved, Adela took off the hat and walked towards her new house, applause ringing through the Hall, and words of welcome awaiting her at the green and silver clad table. Holding back a grin, she walked with shoulders back and head held highly, proudly, knowing the importance of first impressions. Her fellow housemates smiled in approval.

She sat next to a fellow first year girl, with porcelain skin and curly black hair pulled back by a headband. Smiling slightly and nodding, the girl made room for her, and Adela thankfully returned the gesture, happy for the kindness.

The last sorting belonged to the tall, dark skinned boy from earlier. "ZABINI, Blaise," McGonagall had called. He strode forward with a disinterested gaze, his stride confident. He smirked as he slowly lowered the hat, but Adela noticed that waver of his lips, the only telltale of his nerves. A moment or two later, the hat cried its final declaration of the year: "SLYTHERIN!"

Grinning and clapping, somewhat madly if she had to admit, Adela helped usher in the newest member of the house over. He strutted over, his smirk now genuine, and sat down beside her without further ado. With a wink, he stuck out his hand.

"Blaise Zabini," he introduced in an amusingly drawl voice. Raising an eyebrow at the gesture, she stared at him passively for a moment before slowly raising her own hand into his.

"Adela Worbu," she intoned, not shaking his hand, but rather holding it tightly for a moment or two. Smirking, he released his grip and they let go.

"Tracey Davis," the girl beside her cut in, eyebrows raised in amusement. Nodding and continuing with their introductions, Adela felt relieved for the first time in weeks.

As Headmaster Dumbledore stood to give a welcoming yet disconcerting speech, which caused her to question his sanity despite her respect for the man's genius, Adela broke out into a small, true smile. She had been worried, though she refused to admit it to anyone, not her parents nor siblings nor her sizeable extended family, and only now felt like being honest to herself. Too much tension and pressure was resting on her shoulders, and although the burden was still there, it had lessened, and Adela felt lighter from it.

Slytherin, and proud. _Yes_, she thought, _this would work well_.


End file.
